Chapter Two: The Note
Zeema tried to ignore the lilies. They sat in the corner of her desk, not hers, and yet somehow her problem. She hadn’t ordered them, hadn’t even touched them after setting them down — but their presence drew too much attention in a space that thrived on silence and hierarchy.
Everyone in the office knew who the flowers were meant for. The card had arrived in Danielle’s name, and like every other week, it had been intercepted by Zeema first. A beautiful bouquet — this time lilies, elegant and fragrant — with a sealed envelope and the familiar loop of the name “Ray.”
Danielle hadn’t even looked up from her screen when she said, “Trash it. I’m not in the mood for stalkers.”
Same script. Different day.
Except this time, Zeema hesitated. She carried the bouquet back to her desk, intending to toss it later, but something about the note kept her still. The handwriting wasn’t the usual printed type. It was handwritten. It looked… warm. Intentional. It said:
A weekend escape at Wheje Suites. Just you, no distractions. Love, Ray.
There was nothing extravagant in the words. No grand promises. Just space, and rest — both things Zeema hadn’t known in years.
She knew better than to get attached. It wasn’t hers. Not the note. Not the gesture. Not even the fantasy.
Still, the note stayed on her desk longer than it should have. She reread it in quiet moments, heart fluttering with a strange mix of guilt and longing.
The rest of the office treated it like old gossip. They’d seen the flowers before. Danielle’s mysterious admirer was a known annoyance. Zeema often caught side-eyes and smirks from colleagues when she walked past with any new bouquet. It was routine.
But this bouquet was different.
She didn’t know why she hadn’t thrown it out yet.
“Danielle’s stalker got expensive taste,” someone muttered behind her in the break room.
Zeema turned and caught Ifeoma and Fola sharing a look. They didn’t notice her standing by the water dispenser.
“I swear, if he sent those to me, I’d at least show up once,” Fola said with a grin.
“Girl, she doesn’t need to. She has options.”
Zeema’s fingers tightened around her paper cup. She left the room quietly.
That afternoon, Danielle emerged from her office, phone pressed to her ear, looking flawless in her navy suit and pointed heels. Her eyes swept over the room with the bored disinterest of royalty addressing peasants. When they landed on the bouquet still sitting on Zeema’s desk, she paused.
She held up a finger to whoever was on the line. “Zeema,” she called, and the whole office tensed.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Why are those still here?” Danielle pointed at the flowers like they were offensive.
Zeema stood quickly. “I was going to toss them after lunch.”
Danielle scoffed. “Do I need to spell it out every time?”
“No, ma’am. I’ll handle it now.”
Danielle didn’t wait for a reply before turning back to her call. “No — just the assistant. She moves slow,” she said, walking away.
Laughter from a nearby desk made Zeema’s face burn. She grabbed the bouquet and headed to the back hallway where the service bins were.
But again, she paused.
The flowers were still fresh. The note still sat in the envelope. No one had touched it but her. She pulled it out again.
A weekend escape at Wheje Suites.
She imagined it. Just for a second.
A weekend with no Danielle. No snide remarks. No clicking heels. No power games. Just silence. And soft sheets. And sunlight.
It was crazy. She shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought. But she folded the card and slipped it into her bag.
She could throw it away later.
She didn’t.
By the time the office cleared out that evening, the flowers were gone, the bin empty, and the card remained in her bag like a secret. She sat at her desk, screen off, lights dim, the soft sound of the cleaner’s mop in the hallway echoing around her.
No one noticed the bouquet hadn’t gone into the trash.
No one knew Zeema had googled Wheje Suites twice already.
She didn’t know what she was doing. She just knew that for the first time in a very long time, something felt different. And she wasn’t ready to let it go.